


Remove the Hands That Hurt

by Neeka



Series: Cornerstone [1]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Canon-Typical Violence, Jesus finally loses his cool, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Protective Jesus, Violence, nothing actually happens but just to be safe (more warnings inside), vengeance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-27 04:58:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13873641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neeka/pseuds/Neeka
Summary: Deuteronomy 32:35It is mine to avenge; I will repay. In due time their foot will slip; their day of disaster is near and their doom rushes upon them.





	Remove the Hands That Hurt

(Trigger warning in end notes)

Everything was a fucking mess; their communities, their lives, their people. Everything was cracking and falling to pieces right in front of them and Daryl didn’t know if they could come back from it this time.

They’d lost Alexandria. They’d lost _Carl_. And now he was pretty sure they’d lost Rick and Michonne too.

“You doing okay?”

Daryl looked up from where he was sharpening his knives, cleaning his guns and making more arrows to see Paul coming towards him in the early morning light. Daryl was pretty sure Paul was one of the reasons this whole operation was still going; the other man taking on every single job imaginable whilst also quietly offering help and support to everyone who needed it. Maggie was the figurehead of everything now, whether she’d have to stay that way should Rick be unable to keep going was yet to be seen, but Daryl was sure she couldn’t do any of it without Paul.

Daryl knew he must be exhausted. They still shared his trailer now that everyone was taking refuge in Hilltop and he was pretty sure he hadn’t seen the man sleep more than one or two hours a night, sometimes not sleeping at all, just doing everything he possibly could to help.

Which would probably be one of the reason Daryl wasn’t currently batshit insane like he’d expected he’d end up. The first thing Paul had done once he saw Daryl, shaking with grief over Carl and guilt stricken, was to let him know it wasn’t his fault that the Saviours escaped.

He didn’t bullshit, didn’t tell him that Daryl had nothing to do with it, he just told him that it was Eugene who engineered their escape. Then he’d taken Daryl back to his trailer, let him get cleaned up, brought him food and made him sleep. Just like when he’d saved him from the Sanctuary.

Over the following week, Paul always seemed to be around when Daryl needed something, whether it was quiet company, an ear to talk to or someone to spar and get rid of the rage with. He was just always there.

Despite his anger when he first learned about the Saviour POW’s and Paul’s hand in that, he was surprised to find it burned hot but fast. Daryl didn’t agree with it and he knew himself enough to stay far away from their pen, not trusting that he wouldn’t just shoot them all, but they were turning out to be useful, either for information or hostages.

More than anything, Daryl was just surprised at himself. Rick was unreachable, rarely moving from the room he’d been given in Barrington. It killed Daryl to see his brother like that, Michonne too, and even he couldn’t reach Rick this time. And just like the prison after Lori had died, Daryl knew he needed to step up.

As much as Carl’s loss was absolutely killing him, he could barely allow himself to think about it. It forced him to move away from his previous path of utter self destruction, his guilt and anger driving him into somebody he knew deep down he wasn’t. He couldn’t be a loose canon right now, he was actually _needed_. And more than anything, as he looked down at Carl in that tunnel and realised that out of all of them, he’d been the one focused on saving people rather than killing, Daryl knew he had to try and do the same.

Daryl looked after Judith whenever he could. She clung to him, one of the only constant presences in her life, the little girl so confused and hurt that her family was vanishing before her eyes. It always made him think of giving her that very first bottle, so determined that she wouldn’t die, not after everything. He felt that way now, for her and for everyone else. Daryl knew he needed to be more than a mindless killer to achieve that.

He nodded at Paul, realising he was waiting for an answer, before moving over to make space next to him. Being so close to Paul was always a confusing tangle of feelings for Daryl; his stomach turning over and telling him to run, just as much as he wanted to press closer and never leave. Whether he was confused by what it meant or knew _exactly_ what it meant and was pointedly ignoring it, all depended on how honest Daryl wanted to be with himself. It varied from moment to moment.

“Good,” Paul shot him a small smile, pressing his shoulder against Daryl’s gently. “I just took some food to Rick and Michonne. No change really.”

Daryl sighed. “I’ll check on em later. Fuck all else to do right now.”

“Well that’s actually what I’m here about. Maggie has a job for us.”

Intrigued, Daryl put down his knife and twisted to face Paul, trying to ignore the dark circles under his sea foam eyes as he nodded for Paul to continue.

“It’s been a week, they should have made a move by now. Maggie’s worried they’re gearing up for something big. We’re pretty sure they’ve got to have used most, if not all of their major firepower on Alexandria, but it’s no less dangerous for us here. They’ve got to know we’re all here, just ripe for the picking.”

Daryl nodded, he’d been thinking the same thing. As each day passed he was both grateful and concerned; they needed to time for themselves but surely it could only spell worse things to come once the Saviours finally did hit.

“We need a warning,” Paul continued. “Something to make sure we know when they’re coming and we can’t just use lookouts, not after what happened last time. We don’t have enough people as it is, we can’t just send them out there to be picked off. What we do have though, are a few explosives. Nothing big, but if we spread them out in a perimeter around Hilltop, we’ll know if they try to sneak closer.”

It was a good idea actually. “Could add some other traps too,” Daryl suggested. “Won’t do much, maybe slow a few down or thin em out a bit.”

Paul nodded, eyes still bright despite his exhaustion. “Yeah exactly. We could scout around a bit too, see if there’s any Saviours camped out watching us. I really wouldn’t be surprised if we’re under surveillance right now.”

Yeah, Daryl agreed with that for sure. They hadn’t chanced sending anyone else out yet, too preoccupied with getting everyone settled, tending to injuries and trying to plan with two of their leaders out of the game, but out of everyone currently in Hilltop, Daryl knew he and Paul were the best pick for the job. He nodded at Paul, reaching behind him to grab the other man’s favourite knife, handing the perfectly sharpened weapon back to him.

“Looked like it could use a touch up.”

Daryl internally cringed at how fucking awkward he always sounded. Paul though, he just smiled; eyes all soft and grateful, _surprised_ even, as he took the knife and examined it.

“Thank you Daryl, it looks perfect.”

They sat there for a moment, just looking at each other in the early morning glow, Daryl’s heart getting faster in his chest until he had to look away or he’d combust.

Paul nudged his shoulder before he hoped up from the bench, light on his feet as always before turning back to Daryl. The golden morning light highlighted his edges like a fucking halo. As much as Daryl hated his nickname, it did fit Paul well.

“So shall we head off now then? All my stuff’s ready, just waiting on you.”

Daryl shook his head. “Nah, no way. When’s the last time ya ate? Or sat the fuck down for ten minutes?”

The fact that Paul even looked like he had to think about that said enough. Daryl stood up, all but shoving Paul towards where the cooks had started bringing out breakfast for everyone.

“Don’ even answer, just move. Fuckin’ idiot. We’ll go soon as we’s eaten.”

Paul just huffed out a laugh and shook his head, but humoured Daryl all the same, the two of them heading over to the big picnic tables and benches. They collected their small portion of bland as fuck porridge and sat down, chatting quietly and keeping an eye on the people around them. It was a hodgepodge mix of people from Alexandria and the Kingdom, as well as those already at Hilltop.

Most everyone was in low spirits, but Daryl watched in quiet amazement as Paul talked to the people around them, always remembering their names and something about them. He watched him make people laugh, something that would seem almost impossible for anyone other than Paul, he saw him console people, moralise people, or just listen. All of this in the fifteen minutes they spent around the tables.

Even when his decision to bring the Saviour POW’s back was badly received at first, people Paul had risked his life for many times over turning on him, it was easy to see why they all eventually let that go. Paul just had a way about him.

They finished up, grabbed their gear that by now was always ready and waiting by their door, then headed to their weapons storage. It was admittedly fairly lacking but still holding enough for them to cause some trouble for the bastards if they tried to sneak up on them; sticks of dynamite and some tricky little explosives that Rosita had rigged up and shown them how to set.

It wasn’t even mid morning by the time they were finished and heading towards the gate. Security had been upped as much as physically possible, people always posted on lookout over every inch of the wall as well as from the top windows of Barrington House, but setting some kind of perimeter would at least give them advanced warning.

They were quick and quiet as they headed down the road away from Hilltop, their senses fully focused on their surroundings, knowing that there could be snipers or ambushes laying in wait. That uncertainty was exactly why they’d both never have let anyone else do what they’d been tasked with, though Daryl couldn’t help but feel a sick fear in his stomach having Paul along with him. He was one of the most capable people they had, Daryl would never doubt that, but the thought of anything happening to him made his insides go cold.

They were silent as they worked, starting not too far from Hilltop and laying out the dynamite and improvised explosives in a rough circle around the colony. There wasn’t as many of they would have liked, but anything was better than nothing.

A few clicks got Daryl’s attention, looking over to his left and seeing Paul indicate for them to head over to a good bit of cover. He rose up from his crouch after setting the last explosive and walked over to the other man, the two of them sitting back against one of the thick tree trunks surrounding them.

“I hope that’ll be enough,” Paul muttered quietly as he dug in his bag for a water bottle and passed it to Daryl.

“Better than nothin’. Got some ideas for traps too. Might take some set up though.”

Paul just hmmm’d before closing his eyes and tilting his head back against the tree. Daryl couldn’t help but watch him, the other man capturing his attention as always without even trying. But instead of enjoying what he was seeing, Daryl felt uneasy with worry; Paul just looked tired, bone tired in fact. The whole situation was taking it out of everyone, Daryl included, but Paul really needed to take a break, to stop taking on so many jobs, stop feeling responsible for upholding the fucking moral constitution of everyone.

Pressed so close together, closer than they really needed to be in all honesty, Daryl felt Paul slowly relax, his body letting go of some of the tension he’d been holding for so long. In the quiet of the woods, only Daryl for company, Paul gave himself a minute to just breath.

All Daryl wanted to do was pull him closer, to just do _something_ to help, to give comfort and take it too. Because it wasn’t just Paul; Daryl also felt like he could breath for the first time in so long and he wanted more of that. Wanted the two of them to just head off into the quiet emptiness of the world and just be. When he was with Paul, he didn’t need to be anything else, nothing was ever expected, only accepted.

In the middle of the darkest part of the war, with everything falling to shit around them, Daryl got to have one moment of peace with someone who meant far more to him than he should have.

Daryl should have known it wouldn’t last.

Relaxed though they might have been, neither Daryl or Paul ever let their guards down fully, so when they heard the faint sounds of voices and twigs snapping, they both shot upright and looked at each other.

They didn’t even need to speak anymore, both seeming to understand each other so easily. They needed to check out the noises, to take out whoever it was if needed or report back to Hilltop. Either way, they had to get closer.

Weapons at the ready, they stalked forward. Daryl knew he could move silently through the woods, he’d have gone hungry more often than not as a kid if he hadn’t picked that up quick, but he was always surprised by how quiet Paul could be too. Together they were a good team, silent and effective.

Daryl reached out and grabbed Paul’s arm, pulling him to the ground, the other man obeying without question, always trusting Daryl’s skills just as he trusted Paul’s. Seconds later, they heard the voices again, louder this time and much closer. Slowly raising their heads, using the bushes and trees around them for cover, they were finally able to see the group.

They were Saviours, of that there was no doubt, but the group was larger than they’d expected, five men in all. They didn’t seem to be making a move on Hilltop, more like they’d set up camp for keeping watch on them. They probably had orders to fucking attack anyone coming out of Hilltop and report any movement. They needed to die before they hurt anyone else, before they could spoil any plan that they came up with back in Hilltop. The two of them could take them out, he knew that for sure, especially if they had surprise on their side. They needed to strike quick. They-

Daryl felt a grip on his arm, Paul leaning in close to his ear.

“Hey, stop. I know what you’re thinking but we can’t kill them. If they suddenly stop reporting, Negan’s going to know something’s changed and they’ll attack immediately. We don’t have any plans yet, we’re still getting ourselves together. Last thing we need is them to come down on us any quicker than they would’ve done.”

Though the urge to make them all fucking bleed was strong, Daryl knew Paul was right. He relaxed his muscles, only just realising how close he’d been to just charging. Even when he thought he’d gotten his shit somewhat together, just the sight of those fuckers sent him into a rage.

Paul removed his hand. Daryl wished he hadn’t.

They watched them for a few more minutes, hoping to see or hear something useful. As it was, they just chatted shit. Horrifyingly enough, it was the same kind of shit anyone on watch back home could be found saying to each other.

But then a crackle of a radio could be heard, one of the assholes telling them to go ahead. They couldn’t hear the quiet voice over the radio, but they did hear the groups response.

“Okay guys, boss man’s coming back. He says Negan’s ordered more lookouts on Hilltop, then for us to hit them a little tonight. Warm em up a bit.”

Daryl’s stomach dropped, turning to Paul immediately to see the same expression on his face. They nodded at each other, they had to get back to Hilltop and warn them, then head out with a team and take them out. Daryl knew the two of them could probably handle the group, but the risk of not being able to warn Hilltop should the worse happen, just wasn’t worth it.

“Walkers on the right!”

They looked away from each other to see the Saviours pointing to a group of walkers coming at them. And because this was Daryl’s life, he and Paul were right between them.

Paul pushed him, the two of them trying to all but crawl away from the walkers, knowing it was far too easy for either the walkers or the Saviours to see them. Daryl’s heart pounded in his chest, not through fear for himself, but fear of what could happen to Paul. He was too important to him now.

A couple of Saviours stepped forward to deal with the walkers, Daryl and Jesus dropping as low to the floor as they could, hoping that one group or the other would take each other out. But that would be too easy.

The noise had drawn a small group of walkers from the other side too, effectively trapping Daryl and Paul in. They’d have to engage with something, their options were discovery by the Saviours or getting bit. But maybe it didn’t have to happen to both of them.

“Paul!” He whispered, grabbing his arm and pulling him close. “Get back to Hilltop and warn Maggie! She needs to know. I’ll distract em.”

Paul immediately shook his head, face determined. “No way, we’re going together or we take them all out if we have to. I’m not leaving you behind.”

The walkers behind them were close, too close. They’d have to act, one way or the other. The Saviours were closing in as well, Daryl had no idea what to do, how to get Paul out of there and safe how t-

“Fuck, Daryl move!”

Two walkers had gotten right behind Daryl, one reaching down to take a chunk out of his neck. But it didn’t. Paul threw a knife at one and all but threw _himself_ at the other, tackling it away from Daryl and stomping its head to pieces.

It also meant he’d been seen.

Daryl stayed crouched in cold horror as the Saviours shouted, pointing guns and knives at Paul, who just straitened and looked them in the eyes, head held high and face totally calm.

“Shoot him you idiots!”

Daryl panicked. “No!”

He lunged up and stabbed the closest guy with a gun trained on Paul, aiming his bow and ready to shoot every fucker in the head to keep them from Paul.

Click.

“Ah ah ah, I’d drop them weapons if I was you. Seem pretty keen on this one here not having a hole in his holy head and i’d hate to piss on your parade.”

Daryl turned his head to see two new Saviours stood behind Paul, one armed with nasty looking knives and one with a gun right to the back of his head. He was tall, taller than Paul for sure, dark haired and mean eyed, something about him just screaming that he was the worst threat. The guy kept staring at Daryl as he tried to think of some way out of the mess they were in, then quick as lightening he grabbed Paul’s hair and pressed the gun against his head harder. Paul didn’t even wince, just kept looking right at Daryl. But that didn’t stop Daryl dropping his weapons in a second, knife and bow hitting the floor, scooped up by the closest Saviour.

The guy grinned. “Now that’s more like it. Good boy!”

Daryl bristled at his tone, the fucker talking to him like he was some dumb dog.

The guy’s smile dropped into some fake apologetic look wrapped loosely around sheer, twisted joy.

“Though, you did kill one of my guys, so I can’t just let you off with a warning I’m afraid. Mick!”

He nodded to someone behind Daryl, which was all the warning he got before a sharp, pounding pain erupted at the back of his head, Paul’s shout following him down as he hit the floor, vision fuzzy.

“Get the fuck off him!”

Daryl could still hear Paul struggling. He tried to raise his head to look at him, tell him to stop, but everything was spinning. He reached back, feeling blood matting the back of his hair. He wasn’t shot though. Must have been hit with something.

Boots entered his line of sight, Paul shouting again as they swung back to kick him hard in the ribs. He didn’t feel anything crack but it fucking hurt. Arms grabbed him and sat him up, pulling his wrists behind him and tying them together. Daryl’s head swam, fuck he’d gotten too damn many conclusions at this point, he was surprised he had any brain cells left.

“I think we’d best bring these gents back to camp hmm? Think I might have a couple questions for em. Grab this guy and keep your guns on him.”

Daryl watched the guy behind Paul step forward and grab him, pressing a knife against his throat as more guns moved to cover him. His head swam as their leader strolled over to where Daryl was tied up, a look on his face that made his stomach roll. He reached out and stroked a hand over Daryl’s hair, tugging hard.

“I’ll take Daryl.”

The world spun as he was dragged to his feet, the leader’s hands roaming liberally over his arms and chest.

“Watch where ya puttin’ them hands sunshine,” He managed to growl out, head throbbing with each word. The low chuckle he got in response as he was pushed forwards sent a chill through him.

“Oh I haven’t put them anywhere. Yet.”

They didn’t have to go far to their makeshift camp, Daryl’s eyes seeking out Paul whenever possible as they were forced over the lines of hanging cans and into the centre. Paul’s eyes never left his either, never ceasing their steady reassurance even as his hair was pulled to make him move, the knife pressing hard against his throat as he was forced away from Daryl. He was surrounded by five men, two of them with guns and the rest with nasty looking knives. One also had a led pipe that Daryl suspected had been introduced to his scull.

He honestly wasn’t sure how they’d get out of this. And the problem was that they were together.

Daryl knew he’d have tried to fight them off regardless if he was alone and Paul would have too. But the fact was, neither was willing to risk it when it could get the other killed. They were stuck.

There was a horrible tension in the camp, Daryl’s stomach swooping with nausea as his battered brain tried to figure out what would happen next. The leader still had his hands on him, their unrelenting grabbing making him want to vomit as he was pulled over to a tree. He struggled when his arms were forced over his head but stopped as the knife at Paul’s throat was pressed harder, a tiny line of blood appearing on his pale neck. The rope was secured over a branch hanging above him, leaving Daryl helpless and trussed up like an animal. He really didn’t know how they’d get out of this.

The leader left him hanging and walked around, eyeing him up and down like a piece of meat, a gleam in his nasty little eyes that sent unease flooding through him.

“Well hello there, my names Rob. Nice to finally meet you.”

Daryl said nothing, just glared at him.

“What, you’re just gonna ignore me? Where are your manners huh? Well, not that it matters, I know who you are. Who both of you are. You aren’t very popular around my neck of the woods.”

Rob grinned at Daryl, malice in every inch of his face. Over his shoulder Daryl could see Paul surrounded, that fucking knife still pressed hard to his throat, only thin skin between him and a messy death. His eyes still hadn’t left Daryl’s.

“So how ‘bout you boys tell me what you were doin’ out here all on your lonesome? I might go easy on you then.”

They both kept their mouths shut, both prepared to deal with whatever they could dish out if it gave everyone at Hilltop even the slightest advantage. The Saviours obviously didn’t know about the traps and they needed to keep it that way.

At their prolonged silence, Rob just grinned harder. “Oh darlin’, I was hoping you’d do that. Guess I’ll just have to have some fun instead, since you’re too _brave_ and _righteous_ to spill the beans. What a pity.”

From his voice, Daryl knew he did not, in fact, consider it a pity. He reached out, ignoring Daryl’s attempts to shift away and stroked a hand over his bloody hair, tangling his fingers in at the back and pulling until Daryl had to bare his throat.

“Ya know, I remember you from your stay at the Sanctuary. I’d seen you before too, I was with the group at the first line up. When we smashed your friend’s heads in.”

Daryl growled, forcing his head forward to glare at him, mindless of the fierce pull to his hair.

“Ah there it is. That’s what I liked so much ‘bout you Daryl. Even all covered in blood and half dead, you had such spirit! When you socked Negan in the face? _Daaamn_. That got me Daryl, it really did. Got me in all kinds’a ways.”

The hand left his hair and slid down his throat, pressing down gently but threateningly over his windpipe. He didn’t like the way the asshole was looking at him so Daryl looked at Paul again. His face had gotten harder, body tense like he knew something was coming. Daryl’s head was still spinning from the hard blow he’d gotten, but he felt the same; a sick twisting in his stomach, his gut always telling him when to get the hell out of dodge.

“When they brought you to the Sanctuary and locked you up all naked and alone in that cell?” He exhaled with a whistle that made Daryl want to puke, the hand sliding lower, undoing the top button of his shirt and sliding his hand in, resting it over the top of his chest, digging his nails in lightly.

“Wanted to come say hello, get to know ya a little better. Get _real_ friendly. But see, Negan, he got all these rules. All... extra-curricular activities gotta be legal and above board. Oh he can blackmail his ‘wives’ of course but anything else, anything with a bit more... fight shall we say, well that shit just ain’t allowed.”

Daryl heart was pounding now, head getting fuzzy with something else, something other than just a bitch of a concussion. Another two buttons of his shirt were ripped, the hand roaming over more of his exposed chest. It made his want to tear his own skin off.

Rob leaned closer, leer obvious on his face.

“But Negan ain’t here now.”

The rest of the buttons were torn off in one, leaving his shirt wide open. Daryl freaked.

He slammed his head forward, head butting the asshole right in the nose, kicking out with all his strength but only managing to catch Rob in the shin as he jumped away, hand over his nose.

“Oh now _there’s_ the Daryl I know! Always puttin’ up a fight no matter what. Good, wouldn’t want it too easy now would we.”

Rob dropped his hand, blood dripping into his ghoul’s grin as he stepped forward and slammed his fist into the side of Daryl’s head, following up with a brutal punch to his gut that made him double over as far as the rope let him.

He could faintly hear Paul shouting something, but his head was too fuzzy, too far away to make it out. Daryl hoped he wasn’t struggling too much. Didn’t want him to get hurt.

Daryl felt a hand in his hair again, yanking him back up straight and against a chest that was behind him now. There was a face right next to his, breath hot and fast against his ear.

“Oh I’m gunna have some fun with you Daryl, I really am. Some days it just feels like Christmas got dropped right in your lap. And I ain’t a selfish person, I don’t mind sharin’ my presents with my friends. So long as I get to play with em first.”

Daryl slammed his eyes shut and closed his mind. He knew where this was heading and he didn’t want to mentally be anywhere near it. He knew he was feeling panic, terror even, but it started to get further away the deeper he went into his head. He wasn’t far enough away yet though. He could still feel the nails scratching hard down his back, could faintly understand that horrible things were being said into his ear. He couldn’t get far enough away yet, not quick enough. He couldn’t-

“Daryl, Daryl-” He could hear Paul trying to talk to him. Knew he should respond. But Paul’s words were drowned out by heavy breathing behind him and the sound of a belt being unbuckled.

“Daryl!” Something in Paul’s voice did get through to him that time, desperation maybe. Daryl opened his eyes and met Paul’s, seeing nothing but a steely strength, a reassurance.

“It’ll be okay. I promise.”

Even as he heard laughter around him, Daryl knew, he just _knew_ that Paul was about to do something monumentally stupid. He felt his heart skip a beat as he watched every muscle in Paul tense, his eyes flashing from comforting to downright terrifying in a heartbeat.

Horror flooded through Daryl, a cry catching in his throat. Time slowed, his heartbeat pounding in his ears as he watched helpless as Paul moved.

Paul spun in the Saviour’s grip, grabbing his arm as he did, the blade at his throat moving away from his jugular but still slicing from his neck down to his collarbone. The sight of blood running down his friend’s neck made Daryl’s legs weak, the outraged and surprised noises of the other Saviours refusing to even register. Paul was going to bleed out and die right in front of him and it was all Daryl’s fault.

But... he wasn’t.

Time kicked back in. Paul turned to face the Saviour who’d held him, grabbing him and using his body to catch the bullets the other Saviour was shooting before snatching the knife out of his hand and throwing it at the gunman before the first body even hit the floor.

Daryl could hardly believe what he was seeing. Paul ducked the next Saviour’s knife, dropping down and sweeping out with his leg, sending him crashing to the floor before he too was stabbed in the throat, left to choke on his own blood as Paul moved on.

Only two Saviours were still left standing, faces full of choked back fear even as they charged together, obviously thinking they’d have better luck. Daryl’s heart was in his throat as he watched them both attack, the taller of the two slicing out with his blade, making Paul leap back or be gutted. Yet he still managed to deliver a fierce blow to the Saviour’s head that sent him sprawling to the floor unconscious.

The second just charged with his nasty looking serrated blade and instead of dodging out of the way, Paul only moved slightly to the side, grabbing the outstretched arm and using it as momentum, spinning in like a dancer till his back was to the Saviour’s front. Then, somehow, the guy was flying straight over Paul’s hunched back, landing heavily on the ground in front of Paul before his life was also snuffed out with his own knife.

Then it was over. Paul grabbed the gun on the ground, shot the unconscious Saviour and straightened. He faced Daryl, righteous fury all over his face, knife and gun at the ready, bodies all around him. It was over in seconds. He’d killed all those men on his own in a fluid dance that was terrifying in its ease. It was then that Daryl realised he’d never really seen what Paul could do.

Paul took a step forward, gun at the ready when he stopped short, eyes finally shifting from scary to scared.

“Stop! If you come any fuckin’ closer I will shoot him in a heartbeat!”

It was then that Daryl realised Rob was hiding behind him, using his body as a shield, arm tight around his throat and pressing his gun hard into his temple. He’d been so focused on Paul he hadn’t even noticed.

“If you shoot him, there won’t be a place left in this hellhole of a world that I won’t find you.”

A shiver ran through Daryl. He’d never heard Paul sound like that; cold, dark, utterly terrifying. Daryl had no doubt in his mind that Paul would track Rob down to the ends of the earth and make him wish he’d never been born. And Rob knew it too; his arm tightening around Daryl’s neck and breath coming out in scared little gasps, all traces of his early confidence gone, bled right out of him.

“But there’s still a chance for you,” Paul continued, voice softening slightly. “You can let Daryl go and I’ll let _you_ go. You can go back to the Sanctuary, live to fight another day.”

He sounded merciful and sincere, eyes wide and beseeching.

Rob shook his head, jamming the gun in harder and making Daryl wince. Fuck his head felt like it was going to explode.

“Nah, won’t work. Negan wants Daryl dead or dragged back to the Sanctuary to make an example of. If I let him go _and_ came back without my crew, he’d kill me, far nastier than you would. I need something. Something to go back with, to add a little sugar to this shit sandwich.”

Paul stared at him before nodding sharply. Rob breathed a sigh of relief behind Daryl. “Okay good, good choice. What were you doing out here then? I know it was somethin’.”

Daryl started at Paul, willing him not to answer. He knew he would though. Daryl would have done the same in the end.

“We were setting up traps, bombs, all around Hilltop. Little bit of warning for when you pricks showed up.”

Rob seemed to gain some confidence back, straightening slightly with a chuckle. “Now that’s more like it, that’s what I wanted to hear. Still not good enough though. Tell me where.”

“How about I tell you half, you give me Daryl and I tell you the rest?”

“I got no guarantee you won’t just shoot me as soon as I let him go.”

Paul nodded. “Yeah that’s true, but so could you. Guess we’ll just have to trust each other.”

“Fuck no!” Rob tightened the arm around his neck further, making it hard to breath, Daryl’s head fuzzy enough without the lack of oxygen being added to it. He started to drag Daryl backward.

“No, not good enough! I’ll drag him right back to Sanctuary or shoot him dead right in front of ya!”

“Okay okay!” Paul looked scared but quickly hid it again, face and voice turning calm, placid. “I tell you what, we’ll compromise. I’ll drop my gun okay? My knife too. Then you give me Daryl and i’ll tell you the locations of the explosives.”

He gestured to the space between them, the whole camp separating them. “I’ll have nothing and you’ll have a gun. I’m quick but I’m not quick enough to get over there before you shoot one of us. I won’t try anything. I just want Daryl, then you can go.”

Rob hesitated, obviously seeing no other way forward. “How the fuck can I trust you? You just killed all them guys in seconds!”

Paul nodded, face solemn. “Yeah I did and I wish I didn’t have to. You know the Saviours we have prisoner at Hilltop? I was the one who got them to surrender, who kept them safe and convinced Maggie not to kill them. I keep them fed, looked after. Even after everything. If you give me Daryl, I give you my word.”

Daryl’s emotions were in turmoil, betrayal and hurt burning through him. Paul sounded so genuine, like nothing that prick just did or _tried_ to do mattered. He’d just let it all go.

But Rob nodding behind him brought him back to the now. “Right, okay fine. We’ll, we’ll do that then. Fuck. Your word right? I got your word?”

He was nervous. He fucking should be. Whatever Paul decided, Daryl would track that fucker down and kill him. He was a danger to have alive in the world.

Paul nodded, dropping the gun and knife on the ground, hands up and open, the very picture of innocent and trustworthy. “Yeah, you have my word.”

Rob turned his attention back to Daryl. “Well then sugar, seemed today wasn’t meant to be. Run along now. And if you try anything, I shoot you both. I got the upper hand here.”

The arm was removed from around his neck, gun shaking at his temple until it was quickly removed and Daryl was shoved forward. He staggered, hearing the gun go up, almost feeling it focused on the back of his head. But Paul’s eyes were on him, urging him forwards. So he went, something in him still trusting Paul despite his words.

Finally he was in front of the other man, Paul’s hands grabbing him by the arms and looking him over, running a gentle hand over the wound on the back of his head. They were close enough that Daryl could see how hard Paul was breathing, the sweat beading at his temple and the long, diagonal cut along his neck and collarbone that was still leaking blood, deeper in some places than he first thought.

But it was his eyes that caught Daryl’s attention; they were sharp as steel, full of anger. Not merciful at all. Slowly, carefully, Paul mouthed “stay down.”

Before Daryl could even think, Paul moved. He swept his legs out from under him, Daryl dropping like a sack of shit, rolling onto his front just in time to see Paul charge forward quicker than he’d ever seen him move before.

Rob shouted in fear, firing off shots that missed thanks to the shaking hand that fired them and the speed and agility of the one running at him. Daryl watched in cold shock as Paul pulled out the nasty knife he must have hidden away earlier, before he dodged to the side and drew it up, severing the hand from the Saviour’s wrist.

He fell back screaming, clutching at his bloody stump. That didn’t last for long. Quick as a flash, Paul removed the other hand too.

“What the fuck!?” Rob screamed, voice raw and shaking, eyes wide in pure panic. “You just- my hands! You cut- you gave me your word! You- you cut off my hands!”

Paul reached out, ignoring the sharp flinch and grabbed Rob by his hair, driving his fist into his face twice. Rob was getting faint, blood loss and shock kicking in but Paul didn’t seem to care. Instead he pulled him up and spat in his face.

“For what you did you don’t deserve hands!”

Daryl had never heard Paul sound so angry, so utterly unlike himself. It scared him, unnerved him in ways Daryl couldn’t say. It wasn’t the violence, he’d seen worse things, it was just the way Paul had turned into a different person, someone who could do things the man normally never would.

Daryl knew it was for him, he’d done it all for him.

“And that isn’t the only thing.”

Paul let go of Rob’s hair, the man folding like a deck of cards. Then Paul lifted his leg and drove his cargo booted sole right down into the Saviour’s groin. His belt buckle was still undone.

Rob screamed even louder, his bloody stumps trying to cover himself, to offer some protection. There was none to be found.

Paul seemed to be gearing up for another stomp, deaf to Rob’s begging when Daryl snapped, unable to watch Paul do anything else. He dragged himself up and grabbed the gun on the floor, calling Paul’s name. He didn’t seem to hear him.

Before he could stomp down again, Daryl wrapped his arms around his friend, pulling him back into his chest, holding tight even as Paul began to struggle. Daryl could feel his heart pounding under his hands.

“Paul. Paul come on, stop. It’s okay. Ya don’t gotta do anythin’ more alrigh’? Just stop. It’s not you.”

Paul’s breath was coming out in violent heaves, every muscle tense like he didn’t want to stop, wanted to keep going even as Rob was bloody, broken and most of the way towards unconscious. Daryl knew they needed to leave in the next few minutes, the noise from his screams would have surely alerted every walker in the vicinity and they needed to get back to Hilltop and warn them about what they’d heard.

Daryl felt Paul slump into him, could feel the blood under his hands as he kept him pressed tight to his chest. He felt him start to go still, freezing up as he stared at Rob moaning weakly on the ground. As he stared at what he’d done.

Daryl let go of him for a moment and stepped forward, raising his gun and shooting Rob in the head. It was a mercy, one he barely deserved, but Daryl didn’t do it for him, he did it for Paul. Turning around, he finally got a good look at him.

Paul was covered in blood, both from himself and the men he’d killed. He still hadn’t moved, still hadn’t looked away from Rob’s body, his face blank and pale as shock seemed to set in. He wasn’t the only shocked one.

Daryl had never seen Paul like that, even in the midst of their worst battles. He’d been blood drenched and panting, knives in his hands and standing like an avenging angel. But more than that, it was his eyes.

Paul had been angry, well and truly _furious_ , all but shaking like he wanted to carry on tearing people apart. Unlike Daryl’s anger though, it had been anything but wild and uncontrolled; he hadn’t lashed out blindly in his red rage, he’d planned everything, delivered ever wound with unrestrained accuracy. Then he’d turned everything on the bastard holding Daryl and unleashed something truly horrifying in its intensity and meaning. Paul would have carried on until the rat was nothing but a bloody, mutilated pulp.

As much as Daryl wanted Rob to hurt, to pay, he knew Paul. He knew it would haunt him, what he’d done would stay with him for the rest of his life.

“Hey. Paul, you there?” Daryl stepped closer, hands up and open as he carefully moved towards Paul. “Come on man.”

Paul sucked in a breath he seemed to have been holding and finally looked at Daryl, expression clearing slightly. Not okay by any stretch of the imagination, but he was there.

“Daryl? Are- are you okay?”

His voice was croaky and rough as he looked Daryl over for injuries before staring into his eyes, like he could read any other hurts in them. Hell, maybe he could. Daryl felt like he could do the same.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.”

He wasn’t and they both knew it, but then again neither was Paul, and Daryl knew damn well he’d pretend he was just as fine. They were far too similar in that way.

Daryl shuffled his feet before stepping closer again, reaching out with one arm to grab Paul’s shoulder and squeeze as he looked over his injury. It was more serious than he thought but nothing life threatening so long as it was treated. It would scar though, the large cut going down diagonally from his neck, over his throat and down deeper along his collarbone, stopping around the top of his sternum on the right hand side.

“Gonna have to get stitches man. ‘S pretty deep in bits. Fuckin’ idiot, coulda died and I’d have had to _watch_.”

He tried to cover the stubborn leftover fear with anger, but he couldn’t quite get it to stick. Because fuck, he’d been scared, so sure Paul was just going to bleed out right in front of him, because of him.

A strong hand gripped his shoulder in return, making him look back at Paul’s face. He was still pale as death but his eyes were getting their strength back, their softness.

“It would have been worth it. To stop _that_ , anything would have been worth it.”

Daryl’s throat got tight, so many words wanting to come out. He wanted to tell Paul he was an idiot, he wanted to ask if he was okay, he wanted to apologise, he wanted-

He wanted to thank him. But Daryl knew it was a kindness not to; Paul would suffer over what he’d done, the cruelty of it, the brutality. To receive thanks for it would just twist that knife further, make the wound scar over even uglier. Daryl wouldn’t do that to him. Instead, he just gritted his teeth and nodded, knowing as he looked into Paul’s eyes that the other man understood.

“Come on, need to tell Maggie, warn em all. Get ya seen to.”

Paul looked at him a few seconds longer before he nodded, squeezing Daryl’s arm once again. They started the grim task of looting the bodies and camp of all weapons and ammo, retrieving their own as well and loading up two new larger rucksacks with anything useful, eyes always seeming to drift to each other periodically. Daryl also took the radio, hoping they’d overhear something helpful.

When they’d finished, they met up in the middle and Daryl noticed Paul holding something. The other man held it out to him with a shaky imitation of a smile, more grimace than anything.

“Found this for you. I know it’s from them, but it’s all I could find.”

Paul handed him a shirt, large enough to fit him and sturdy. He hated it, the thought of putting something on his body that had been worn by one of them, maybe even _him_ , made Daryl want to puke. But in the end, practicality won out, the thought of turning up to Hilltop in a ripped open shirt and having to come up with some kind of excuse or God forbid, explain, made him want to curl up in a nice hole and die.

He never wanted anyone to know what happened. What nearly happened. They’d have to give a general overview of the situation, Daryl accepted that much, but the details and Rob’s actions would die with him and Paul. Daryl trusted unquestionably that Paul would never breath a word of it, not even to Maggie.

Daryl finally made himself nod, hoping it would convey enough to Paul, before removing his vest and ruined shirt. Paul turned away to let him change in privacy as Daryl pulled on the shirt, grimacing as it settled over his skin and made it crawl. Layering his own, familiar vest over the top seemed to settle that some, giving Daryl just enough slack to push the feeling away entirely for now.

Daryl turned back to Paul, the other man’s eyes meeting his. They stood there for a moment, just looking at each other. It should have been uncomfortable, someone looking at him like that, should have made him hide behind his hair and scarper. But strangely, it was comforting.

When Paul looked at him, he felt seen. Not in the way that made him feel like he was being vivisected, but like he was being understood. It’d always been that way with him, something in Paul calling to Daryl and vice versa. They recognised something in each other.

Daryl knew there were no words right then that either could find; anything they attempted would feel like ash in their mouths, so they didn’t even try. There would be time for it later maybe, when war wasn’t biting at their heels, the promise of further bloodshed hanging over their communities. All Daryl knew was that the day he and Rick were played for fools and robbed by a tricky little thief, ended up being one of the luckiest days of his life.

Paul’s face was soft and reassuring as he finally managed a small smile. Daryl was struck by how complex of a person he was; so gentle and peaceful, always trying to find a solution that resulted in the least harm, yet he also had a new side, one Daryl only saw today. It gave him a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach to know there was such anger, such a capability for almost cruel violence hiding in Paul, pushed down until something provoked it. He’d done it for Daryl, to have his back, to fucking _save_ him from something so horrific his mind was purposefully hiding away from it still.

Paul turned and together they set off for Hilltop, leaving the horror of the camp behind them with every step they took. It was only physical of course, he knew the memories would stay with both of them for a long time to come.

Pushing the thoughts into a box to deal with later, he turned his mind to Paul instead. Daryl was always so used to either following someone or going his own way, but for the first time, he wanted to go _with_ someone, to walk by their side through whatever was to come for as long as he could.

He wasn’t an idiot and whether he chose to acknowledge it or not, Daryl knew he had feelings for Paul, so many of them it was confusing and terrifying and _wonderful_ all at once. There was no time to dwell on them yet, but maybe when this was all over?

Well, maybe Paul would want to walk with him too.

**Author's Note:**

> (Trigger warning: some suggestive language, threats and groping but that’s as far as it actually goes. But better safe than sorry!)
> 
> Fucking hell this was so far out of my comfort zone my guys, but I gave it a try! Anon wanted Daryl and Paul getting cornered by Saviours, one of them trying to sexually assault Daryl as he freezes and Paul looses his shit. So I hope it delivered! Really sorry about the wait, i’ve been super busy and had major writers block with this!
> 
> This was also written mostly prior to ep 8 but I did flip back and add a few details, I just couldn’t bring myself to go back and bring it totally in line with where it seems to be going in canon, not that it really matters here. 
> 
> Let me know what you guys think, comments fuel me and I always love hearing your thoughts :) xxxx


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